


Holy Crap!

by Anonymous



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series), Watcher Entertainment RPF
Genre: Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Established Relationship, Kink Exploration, Like Literal Actual Poop, M/M, Masturbation, Scat, pants messing, poop, read the tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:02:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28365843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Ryan has a scat kink. Shane doesn't know. How will Shane react if he ever finds out? Where does Ryan go from here?See Notes for additional warnings.
Relationships: Ryan Bergara & Steven Lim, Ryan Bergara/Shane Madej
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17
Collections: Anonymous





	Holy Crap!

**Author's Note:**

> SCAT IS A KINK FOR POOP. In this particular fic, it involves messing pants, and an ungodly amount of poop puns. If this is not your thing, I suggest you leave now, or be scarred for life. 
> 
> Written upon request of [toadreadytoparty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/toadreadytoparty).

It's around two in the morning when Ryan slips out of Shane's and his bedroom with a backpack over his shoulder, tiptoeing quietly towards the bathroom, before realizing that probably just makes him look more suspicious. He begins to walk normally, turning on the light and locking the door behind him once he gets there. 

He sets down his backpack, unable to help the way his gaze immediately darts towards the toilet. He squeezes his eyes shut tightly, the familiar wave of shame heating his skin and awakening his arousal. It had taken forever for Shane to fall asleep and a great amount of effort for Ryan not to come in his sweatpants at Shane amusedly recalling the day he made the regretful decision to purchase and consume airport hot dogs. 

He lets out a shiver as he leans against the wall, palming himself through his sweatpants, as he remembers the _incident._

*

They'd arrived on location with seemingly nothing amiss, until Ryan realized that _he_ was having to slow his pace for _Shane_ as opposed to the other way around. Shane's face was far paler than normal, and while his skin complexion could be compared to that of a porcelain toilet bowl, it was now devoid of even a hint of color. There was a sheen of sweat on his brow, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. 

"You good big guy?" Ryan had asked, watching the way Shane tensed slightly and shifted his standing position. 

"Yeah," he muttered, before making some sort of offhand comment about the architecture. 

Ryan wasn't sure he believed him, but Unsolved ran on a tight schedule and he didn't have time to badger the emotion out of Shane. 

As the shoot continued, Ryan noticed that Shane was slowing even more, his features contorting at certain points before smoothing out again. Ryan asked Katie if they could take five, and pulled Shane aside once she gave the okay. 

"Okay seriously dude, what's up with you?" Ryan demanded, his tone laced with concern. 

"Nothing," Shane said tightly. 

"You haven't mocked me all day man. I literally jumped at my own shadow. _My own shadow_ Shane, and you didn't say shit," Ryan told him, blinking in confusion as Shane's tension seemed to increase on the tail end of his sentence. 

Shane dropped his gaze, and Ryan was surprised by his loss for words. "Are you sick?" he asked, pressing the back of his hand against Shane's forehead. 

Shane shifted again and began to tap his foot. 

"Okay you feel clammy as hell, and I know you're not scared of whatever might be haunting this place," Ryan said, rushing through the next bit so that Shane couldn't interrupt him, "because you don't believe anything is haunting this place. What the hell is going on?"

Shane faltered slightly, letting out a shaky exhale as he visibly deflated. "Never eat airport hot dogs," he murmured, desperately searching Ryan's gaze, begging him to understand without his having to elaborate. 

Heat had jolted through Ryan once the realization hit him, quickly followed by panic over trying to conceal his enthusiasm. "We'll cut filming down a bit," Ryan promised, unable to look at him, hoping that Shane was distracted enough by his own predicament to notice Ryan's shift in behavior. 

He'd had to angle his hips in such a way that his boner wasn't glaringly obvious and had to ramp up his fear at his surroundings as a distraction to avoid any suspicion. 

The second he'd gotten a moment alone he'd shoved his hands down his pants, his mind racing with various scenarios, his skin hot with want. 

* 

And that's just what he is doing now. 

He imagines what would have happened had Shane not been able to make a beeline for the bathroom the second the shoot ended. He imagines Shane biting his lip, trembling with desperation, holding himself back from the ultimate humiliation. Would Shane have gripped Ryan's arm to ground himself? Would his voice have risen in pitch as he squirmed with need? 

Ryan's cock was tenting his sweatpants obscenely, a sizeable wet spot on the front of them. He crouches down on the floor, pulling out a pair of cheap boxers and clearance pants from his backpack. He quickly changes into them and steps into the shower. His breaths come out as shaky pants as he feels the familiar buildup of pressure in his stomach, and he tenses his ab muscles. 

He imagines Shane looking up at him with a helpless expression, before a wave of fear crosses his features. Ryan slips a hand into his pants, squeezing his cock through his boxers. He grips and strokes himself through the fabric, seeing in his mind's eye a flush on Shane's cheek, a soft grunt as Shane messes his pants. 

Ryan bites his lip, shaking slightly, before pushing his own mess into his boxers, flicking the tip of his cock with his thumb and coming quickly soon after. The physical relief is amazing and Ryan has to place a hand on the shower wall to steady himself. He closes his eyes and for a moment just revels in the thought of someone catching him like this, filthy and vulnerable. He's always been drawn to the taboo and the rare, searching desperately for something to ease the aching burn of his curiosity. 

Ryan calms and begins the dreaded and thorough cleaning process that always comes with this indulgence. When he first realized he was into it, like any sane human being he'd tried to resist the urge, rid himself of the desire. That had just resulted in pent up frustration and recklessness when he could no longer deny himself, which resulted in Jake very nearly finding out about his kink. 

Once Ryan has entirely cleaned himself off and placed his soiled clothes in a Ziplock bag, he places the Ziplock bag in a plastic shopping bag, and then in another plastic shopping bag for good measure. He shoves the bag in his backpack and redresses in his pajamas before stepping back out into the hall. 

As he walks back to the bedroom, he quite literally bumps into Shane, knocking him slightly off balance, sending the shopping bag tumbling out of his backpack. 

"Mmsorry," Shane mumbles, still half asleep as he tries to move past Ryan. 

His foot steps on something with an audible squish. 

Ryan's heart slams down to the floor. 

But Shane doesn't say anything, merely walks around the (thankfully) still tied up shopping bag, steps into the bathroom, and shuts the door. 

Ryan would have dropped down to his knees and praised the mercy of some unseen deity, if he believed in that sort of thing. He swoops down to pick up the bag, carefully placing it into his backpack so he can ensure he is indeed watching himself do so, and slowly closes the zipper. 

He heads back to the bedroom, sets his backpack aside, and slides under the covers. He knows there's no way in hell he'll be able to sleep after this but he tries anyway, pretending to be deep in slumber when Shane returns from the bathroom and slips into bed beside him. 

*

The following morning has Ryan "waking up" early, bustling about the kitchen as he makes coffee and toast. He nearly jumps out of his skin when Shane slinks up behind him and wraps his wiry arms around Ryan's waist, drawing him close. 

Shane drops a kiss on the back of Ryan's neck. "Is the "cuddle monster" in early retirement?" he murmurs, nuzzling the top of Ryan's head. 

"I called _you_ that," Ryan retorts, hoping to distract from how nervous he is, trying not to imagine Shane pressing on Ryan's stomach while Ryan has to--

"Oh, is that right?" Shane hums, leaning down to kiss along the slightly bared skin of Ryan's shoulders. 

On any other day, the trail of goosebumps Shane left behind with every feathery soft press of his lips would have Ryan turning around and pulling Shane into his arms, clinging like he was a lifeline. But today he's simply too anxious for any of that. 

"You know you are," Ryan responds, thankful when the popping sound of the toaster gives him an excuse to pull away. 

Shane sits down at the kitchen table and Ryan sets a plate of toast and mug of coffee in front of each of them, various spreads sitting in the middle. 

Ryan watches as Shane scrolls through his phone and absently spreads some jam over a slice of toast. He's acting like he typically does in the mornings; light flirting followed by minutes of millennial silence as they check their various socials. He doesn't say anything about the previous night. He's not acting like he saw anything amiss. 

Ryan can hear his heart hammering in his ears. He wants to tell Shane. They've been through so much crap together, what's one more piece of it?

His leg starts to bounce involuntarily. 

He can't tell Shane. It's absolutely disgusting. _He's_ absolutely disgusting. And yet, was that not part of the thrill? 

Memories of Shane's post-hot dog hell come flashing back through his mind and he can't help the flush that crosses his cheeks as he stares up at Shane, imagining him in a similar predicament. He licks his lips. 

However, this was the most taboo of the taboo. Even people on fetish sites had it on their list of hard limits. 

He wonders if Shane maybe had already caught on. Ryan had told so many poop jokes over the years; what if that made him look suspicious? Or maybe, Shane just thought he was an immature frat boy with a shitty sense of humor. 

Ryan is broken out of his panic spiral when he hears Shane's voice. His head snaps back up and he looks at Shane blankly. 

"Sorry, what did you say?" Ryan asks. 

"Keith's doing an episode of "Eat the Menu" at Portillo's," Shane replies. 

"Oh, right. Cool," Ryan says. 

Shane hums in agreement and stares back at his phone. 

"Aren't you gonna ask me?" Ryan finally blurts out. 

Shane's thumb hovers momentarily over his phone before he resumes typing. "Whatever it is, you're gonna break and tell me anyway. Why expend the extra energy?"

Ryan sighs heavily, and hangs his head. Shane is as sardonic as ever. And completely right in this case but Ryan would never admit to that. 

"So, you're not curious about what happened last night?" Ryan presses. 

"The full moon?" Shane says. 

"You know that's not what I mean," Ryan returns. 

"So, what did you mean?" Shane prompts, actually looking at Ryan this time. 

Heat shoots up the back of Ryan's neck. He feels put on the spot, the heaviness of his embarrassment about this more than it has been in a while. "The bag," Ryan says, squirming in his chair when Shane merely quirks an eyebrow at him. "The squishy one? You stepped on it in the hallway?" 

Shane nods. "Yeah?"

"It uh...had something in it. Something um. Something kind of embarrassing," Ryan admits, his cheeks getting redder and redder. 

"Okay," Shane replies blandly and Ryan wonders if the guy has ever been curious about anything in his life. 

"It's...kinky," Ryan nearly whispers, eyes falling to the floor. 

"I figured as much," Shane replies. 

"It's um. It has to do with...fuck, this is hard," Ryan sighs, running a hand through his dark curls. 

"You don't owe me an explanation Ryan," Shane tells him. 

"I know, but unlike you I actually talk about shit," Ryan shoots back, his voice shaking slightly on the last word of his sentence. 

Shane blinks at him and Ryan decides to just go for broke. "I...I-I have an um, a scat kink." 

Shane grins. "Shoo bee doobee bah bah yeahhh yeah," he sings to the tune of "You've Got A Friend in Me." 

Ryan would normally be charmed if he wasn't inwardly panicking. "Seriously? _You've_ never heard of scat? The sex Snapple himself?"

Shane chuckles. "I'd say I know a bit more than the average Jane but I'm by no means an expert." 

"You're really gonna make me spell this out?" Ryan winces. 

Shane shakes his head. "Like I said you don't owe--" 

"It's poop," Ryan grounds out. "It's--scat is a kink for poop." 

Shane actually full on _guffaws_ at that. "Gee Ryan, I know I give you _shit_ all the time, but I had no idea how much you liked it!" 

"No that's not what I--" 

"Though I suppose I put up with my fair share of _crap_ from you too," Shane jokes. 

"Shane," Ryan says solemnly and to his credit, Shane stops laughing and regards Ryan seriously now. "I mean it. I like...I-I like the idea of someone...doing that in their pants. Me or someone else, I don't care who, or maybe, maybe both. Just..." 

Shane's merely watching him, patiently waiting for Ryan to continue. Sometimes Shane's nonchalance could be infuriating. 

"But that's it! Maybe like, holding someone after to comfort them or whatever but I don't do weird sh--stuff with it," Ryan rambles. 

"Okay," Shane replies with a nod. 

"It's uh...it's a kink though. So...it's not just some weird--I'm not the only guy into it," Ryan tries to explain. 

"Okay," Shane says. 

Ryan gulps. "I wanna try it with you," he finally admits, blinking big brown eyes up at Shane. 

He watches as Shane's expression goes soft. "Sorry, it's not really my kind of thing." 

Ryan droops visibly, but he understands it. Most people are appalled at the mere notion of it, so Ryan should be glad that at least Shane didn't run screaming from the room. 

The resume their social media scrolling in relative silence, sending each other memes every now and then. 

*

It's not as though Ryan and Shane were entirely vanilla. They had their fair share of toys, even venturing into the spicy section of Spencer's every now and then. But each time Ryan would eat a large meal, rubbing over his stomach in anticipation of what was to come later, he'd feel an emptiness in his chest, even while full of food. 

He couldn't think about Shane in any sort of fecal context, having to force himself to stay far away from any bathroom that Shane occupied, blushing whenever Shane got up to use it. Sometimes he'd put off his own need to go just to wait for Shane to get back and then rush off. 

Ryan tries not to agonize over it, different strokes for different folks and all that, although Ryan is certainly stroking himself to something very different than most folks. 

Porn helps a little, but it's not the same as watching someone in person, hearing the way their voice quiets and restricts, feeling their uneven breaths when they stand close enough. 

He has a doctor's appointment and sees the "Your Poop and You" chart on the wall, with pictures and descriptions of various shapes, and he feels tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. It's all a bit ridiculous but he can't exactly help it either. 

He's really not sure what to do; could he really go the rest of his life with empty pants? 

On one particular day after work with Shane staying late to make some editing notes on Puppet History, Steven and Ryan decide to head out for tacos. Ryan drives them both and Steven agrees to buy in exchange. The place Steven suggests is a little out of the way, but Ryan knows that if the food expert is recommending it, it's probably Worth It™. 

The size of the portions rival that of Chipotle's, but it's all authentic and all fresh. When he's finished, Ryan slumps against the back of the booth they are sitting in, placing his palm on his tummy and rubbing slow circles over it. He thinks he notices Steven watching a little more closely than normal, but he isn't sure, because normally Shane is there for him to make heart eyes at. He hears Steven's stomach make a noise and watches as a light pink splashes across his cheeks. 

"I'll be right back," Steven murmurs, shucking his backpack over his shoulder and moving quickly towards the restroom. 

Ryan watches him go, pulled by curiosity and a sneaking suspicion. He's heard tales of kinky people being able to smell their kind in the wild, and he's pretty sure that's especially true for people into scat. 

He hears the click of a lock of a stall door as he enters, able to see Steven's shoes in the space underneath. Steven sets down his backpack, but he doesn't slide his pants and underwear down. He's shuffling back and forth on his feet, he's taking deep breaths, and then releasing small puffs of air. 

Ryan holds his breath. Does he dare hope that someone else wants to go to brown town just as badly as he does? 

He has a brief moment of hesitation, but his cravings win out in the end. He lightly knocks on the stall door. 

"Steven?" he asks quietly, his voice sounding far too loud in the echo of the bathroom. 

There's a sharp intake of breath and then the sound of fumbling with a belt. "Uh, I'll just be a bit," Steven tells him and Ryan can hear the delicious strain that tightens itself around Steven's words. 

"Wait," Ryan protests, his face burning as he realizes just how cringey his request is. 

Steven pauses. "W-what?" he asks in confusion. 

Ryan glances around nervously before quickly sending a text to Steven. "Check your phone." 

_Ryan: You don't have to get messy alone you know._

Ryan's phone buzzes. 

_Steven: I'm not sure what you mean?_

_Ryan: Don't play innocent. You came in here to bake a loaf in your boxers, didn't you?_

It's far too on the nose, he knows, but he's been desperate for this for weeks; and he's pretty damn sure he's right. When Steven doesn't reply, Ryan sends another message, his fingers shaking as he hopes his text comes across as more confident than he feels. 

_Ryan: I can either head out to my car and wait for you there, or, we can go back to yours and I watch you shiver until you have no choice butt to do the royal squat._

Ryan hears a gasp from inside the stall, his heart in his throat as he watches the backpack rise off the floor and hears the door unlock. 

Steven emerges breathless and flushed and Ryan can't wait to make him hold it. 

They make their way back to Ryan's car as normally as they can manage, and Steven lets out a pitiful whimper once they are safely inside.

Ryan's hard almost instantly. 

He doesn't know if Steven is playing up his noises and reactions for Ryan's sake, or, if he's just not bothering to conceal them, but either way it's hot as hell. 

Steven squirms and closes in on himself, shifting positions every now and then with frantic motions. Ryan has to keep the thought of Steven unloading his timber in Ryan's car out of his thoughts or he'll unload something far faster than he wants to. 

They climb the stairs to Steven's apartment, and Steven is now holding himself around the middle with one arm, taking each slow step with a heavy footfall. Ryan bites down on his lip as he imagines Steve laying a brick on the stairs, as Ryan watches the growing bulge in the back of Steven's pants, hearing Steven cry in embarrassment. 

Steven lets them in when they arrive and now, he has two arms wrapped around his middle. He's trembling just a bit, his hair is slightly disheveled, and he's blushing more than Ryan knew he could. 

Ryan tugs Steven into the shower while he stands outside of it, his heart pounding in his ears as he watches Steven curl his hands into fists against his thighs. 

"Fuck, Steven...how bad do you have to go? Scale of 1 to 10?" Ryan asks breathlessly, and his heart races at the way Steven blushes and strains. 

"Eight," Steven grunts, pressing his cheek to the cool shower wall. 

"Damn," Ryan marvels, entirely captivated by the sight of Steven almost bending in half and shaking with need. 

"I-I'm so full. It's gonna...I don't know much longer I can hold it," Steven admits, and Ryan can tell that the verbalization aspect is a big part of it for Steven. 

Ryan swallows thickly. He steps into the shower and turns Steven so that they are facing on another. Steven's face is bright red and Ryan feels something hot curl in his stomach. 

"I wanna see," Ryan assures Steven, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. 

Ryan watches as Steven accidentally relaxes just a hair too much at those words, his mess coming out before he expects it. Ryan can hear Steven's whine of surprise, the sound of his mess releasing amplified by the echoes off the tiled walls. Steven is panting softly, wetness forming at the corners of his eyes, from strain or shame Ryan doesn't know but he's warm all over. 

Ryan feels compelled to hold Steven and he slides his arms around him, feeling Steven tremble as he curls a shaky hand in the hem of Ryan's shirt. Steven sags down slightly and lays his head against Ryan's chest and they just stand there like that for a little while. 

"Your turn," Steven says so softly it's nearly a whisper.

Ryan moves to pull away but Steven clings to him, pressing their stomachs together, but notably angling his hips away from Ryan's. He lays a comforting hand on the small of Ryan's back, standing to his full height and gently guiding Ryan's head to lay on his chest. 

Ryan shivers. This is so oddly intimate and yet, it's not entirely what he expected of his first time dealing with someone else's crap. Ryan closes his eyes, leaning against Steven, thinking about the way Steven just messed his pants right in front of him. Steven rubs soothing circles over Ryan's back and it feels so _nice_ , even if the bathroom does smell like recess at a doggy daycare. Ryan takes in a few halting breaths, letting out a soft noise as he fills his pants. 

His legs tremble and he wraps his arms tightly around Steven, both for balance and because he's feeling extremely vulnerable right now. 

Steven holds on just as tightly, continuing to rub over Ryan's back. 

"Could you feel anything? From my uh...stomach?" Ryan asks, his cheeks bright red. 

Steven shuffles slightly. "Not too much really," he admits. "But when you ah..." Steven blushes. "You held on a-a little tighter right before you..." 

"Oh," Ryan says softly. 

They decide to shower separately, and Ryan tells Steven to go first so he does. He's thankful that Steven's roommates aren't home as he waits outside the bathroom. 

With a large log weighing down his underwear, Ryan grows contemplative as he waits. 

It's odd, really, as this isn't entirely what he expected from his first time dealing with someone else's crap. He's aroused, certainly, but he doesn't really have the desire to do too much beyond this. It's nice though, the mixing of taboo with comfort, especially seeing someone as seemingly buttoned up as Steven Lim just letting go like that. 

Ryan showers soon after, with Steven retrieving Ryan's extra set of gym clothes from his car, and once they are both quite literally squeaky clean, they part ways. 

They share a long hug before Ryan pulls back. "Uhm...if you ever wanna c-come over again..." Steven says, trailing off. 

Ryan smiles and nods and Steven smiles back at him. 

* 

***Ryan slips into his car and begins to drive home. He sighs heavily once he gets on the highway, the road congested with cars slowly inching forward. 

As tends to be the case for Ryan when the world around him is moving so much slower than his brain, his thoughts wander back to the events of the day. 

He still can't believe what he did with Steven. He still can't believe that Steven had _wanted_ to do that with him. Looking back, with all the signs he'd spotted that led him to the conclusion that Steven was just as into this sort of thing as he was, he'd very much have to agree with the fact that comrades in kink could smell it on each other. Ryan wonders how hard it is for people to find a willing partner. Most people would probably be revolted by it. Shane hadn't been interested, but at least he hadn't mocked or dumped Ryan. 

All of a sudden, Ryan's thoughts then came to a screeching halt. 

_Shane._

What he'd asked Shane to do with him, he'd just done with Steven. It had just all happened so fast. He'd had an inkling and followed Steven into the bathroom, his thoughts full of shit in that moment instead of being full of Shane. 

He felt his stomach drop. 

He'd argued ardently against cheating since he was old enough to know what it was. He'd condemned it as being the worst thing one can do to someone else, after murder and abuse. 

His mouth went dry. 

His brain couldn't reconcile the fact that he'd just _cheated_ on Shane, the guy he'd fought hard for once he'd realized that they were enough of a possibility, the guy he'd waited so long for because getting Shane to admit to having even an ounce of emotion in him was next to possible. 

Every kiss, caress, embrace; every joke they exchanged, every moment they shared...and Ryan had just spit in the face of all of that. 

He somehow manages to arrive home on autopilot, his feeling heavy and squirmy, in that nervous way that if he still had poop in him, he'd really need to poop. 

He doesn't know if he can even make it up the stairs, and certainly doesn't think he deserves to. He doesn't deserve Shane. Not after what he's done. 

But he forces himself out of the car, drags himself up the stairs, and after a few moments of hesitation enters the apartment. 

Shane at least deserves an explanation, and Ryan wants to make sure it's from him. 

When Ryann steps inside, Shane is bustling about the kitchen. Guilt seeps through Ryan's skin, leaving him feeling cold and droopy, his mouth feeling like someone pressed the "mute" button down onto his tongue. Shane turns around and notices he's back before Ryan can even try to say anything.***

Shane gives him a smile and Ryan bursts into tears. 

"I'm sorry!" Ryan blurts out, burying his face in his hands. 

He can feel Shane's confusion as he hears silence, and then the sound of Shane moving towards him. Ryan shrinks back. He doesn't deserve Shane's comfort. He's such a piece of shit. 

"Ryan?" Shane tries. 

"S-Steven..." Ryan begins, choking out a sob. 

He takes in a few shuddering breaths. If Shane's gonna leave his ass, he deserves to know the truth. 

"Steven and I did...we did scat stuff together," Ryan cries, his shoulders shaking as he keeps his face hidden. 

"Oh," Shane says simply, as if Ryan told him he had a loose thread or something. 

"Oh?!" Ryan exclaims, staring up at him finally. "That's all you have to say? Shane, I cheated on you!" 

"Did it involve anything other than pooping?" Shane asks. 

Ryan shrugs. "A bit of hugging and like...Steven rubbed my back." 

"Oh okay, so _just_ a poop affair," Shane says blandly. 

"You're okay with this? You're seriously okay with this?" Ryan demands as if he can't fathom the thought. 

Shane shrugs. "If you wanna go poop with Steven or whatever, I don't really care. You know you could've just told me."

"Yeah, it's just _that_ easy for the guy who never wants to talk about emotional crap," Ryan says sardonically. 

"Hey, you're the one talking about crap here, not me," Shane tells him, but there's a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. 

Ryan tries and fails to fight back a giggle. "Does this mean I can't make poop jokes on Watcher anymore?"

"I think our audience would seriously wonder what was wrong with you if you didn't," Shane replies. 

Ryan walks over to Shane and wraps his arms around him. "Shut up Shane," he says, as he leans up to kiss him.


End file.
